The muzak at the local Safeway is usually pretty innocuous: Neil Diamond, The Capenters, maybe a little Rod Stewart or Olivia Newton-John to spice things up. Tonight, though, it was like Dark Safeway.

First they played Def Leppard. Then Heart’s “Barracuda”. Then “Mr. Brightside” by The Killers. I’m no prude, but the latter song is wholly inappropriate for a family grocery store. The tune is thrashy and the vocals strident. That’s enough to set me on edge right away. But the lyrics just put it over the top:

It started out with a kiss

How did it end up like this?

It was only a kiss

It was only a kiss

Now I’m falling asleep

And she’s calling a cab

While he’s having a smoke

And she’s taking a drag

Now they’re going to bed

And my stomach is sick

And it’s all in my head

But she’s touching his chest now

He takes off her dress now

I expected the next song to be “Add It Up” by Violent Femmes!

If you’ve been following along at Get Fit Slowly, then you know I recently began a health and fitness program. Yes, I know I’ve started these many times in the past, but this time feels different. This time feels like 1997, the year I lost 40 pounds. My entire mindset seems to have changed.

I’m following Bill Phillips’ Body for Life program, which contains two components: diet and exercise.

Body for life

The dietary component of this plan is pretty straightforward. Participants are supposed to eat six small meals per day. Each meal should consist of one portion protein and one portion carbohydrate (where a portion is roughly the size of your hand or fist). An extra vegetable can be eaten with two meals each day. Participants are encouraged to drink as much water as possible. Finally, everybody can take one free day per week on which they don’t worry about following the plan.

None of that is revolutionary, of course. The fitness plan is pretty standard, too, except for the aerobics. On Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, participants lift weights, alternating between upper- and lower-body workouts. (If I do lower body on Friday, for example, then I do upper body the following Monday.)

Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday are set aside for aerobics. Phillips recommends just twenty minutes of aerobic activity at a time, but each of those twenty minutes is carefully prescribed. One begins moderately but proceeds to exercise more vigorously until near peak effort, then reduces to moderate effort again to repeat the cycle.

All of this has worked fine so far. I’ve enjoyed the program, and have been able to stick with it.

I’m not so good at the twenty minute intensity intervals for the aerobics, though. I may be circumventing the intended effects, but I’m instead using my aerobic days to do traditional aerobics, the sort with which I am familiar. I might, for example, spend an hour on the stationary recumbent bike.

I’ve been looking for an aerobic exercise for my upper body (which is incredibly weak). All I can come up with is swimming. I’ve always considered swimming to be something for when I’m in peak condition. (I have a sliding scale: biking, running, swimming. The fitter I am, the further along that scale I can move.) But I’ve decided that I’m going to try to do some swimming regardless of my condition.

Buying goggles

As a result — and the entire reason I’m writing this entry! — I made a trip to G.I. Joe’s today to pick up some swimming goggles.

“Where are they?” asked Kris.

“I don’t know. Let’s start over here,” I said, pointing to the right, “and go ’til we find them.”

We walked past the biking stuff, the weight-lifting equipment, the team sports equipment, the walking equipment, the hunting equipment, the camping equipment, the auto parts, the kayak equipment, and then we came to the swimming stuff.

Just to the left of where we’d started, I found an endcap with about a dozen different types of goggles. I began to browse through them, looking for a pair I thought I’d work. I didn’t know what I was looking for, though. I don’t know anything about swimming goggles.

“What’s the difference between the Baja and the Baja Jr.?” I pondered aloud.

“I don’t know,” Kris said from around the corner, “but there are more goggles over here.”

Indeed there were. There were another 30 types of goggles of all colors, shapes, and sizes. Kris grabbed a pair. “Buy these,” she said, handing me the Speedo Hydrospex.

“Why should I buy those?” I asked. “The lenses are blue. Why would I want blue lenses?” I put them back and began to look through the rack. The choices seemed endless, and there was no way for me to evaluate the options. What made a $20 pair of goggles better than a $10 pair? Why did some have blue lenses or black lenses or pink lenses? Did it matter what type of headstrap the goggles had? I knew I wanted anti-fog goggles, but that was my only requirement. (I remember how annoying it was to have the goggles fog up when in the pool.)

“I can’t decide,” I said. “I’m just going to buy the Hydrospex.”

The moral

The crazy thing is that if I had only been given three choices, it would have been easy for me to make a decision. I feel qualified to choose between three types of swimming goggles. But when there are 30 choices, I’m all at sea. When there are 30 choices, there are so many subtle variations between the models that I have no hope of differentiating between them.

(Yes, I’m well aware there’s an entire book on this subject, thanks.)

It’s one o’clock on Sunday afternoon. I’m working on a long-delayed post for Get Rich Slowly about my fears over becoming a full-time blogger. This post has been weeks in coming, and I think I’m finally getting it.

I’ve got my radio tuned to the dance music station to give me a constant beat in the background. I’m focused on my writing.

Except Kris is listening to her weekly “Car Talk” podcast in her office. Argh! The noise pollution! Over everything, I can hear the maniacal duck-like laughter of the Magliozzi brothers.

Quack quack quack quack quack.

(Kris loves “Car Talk” and “Wait Wait Don’t Tell Me”. These two programs are broadcast back-to-back from 10am to noon on Saturday mornings on our public radio station. If she misses them for some reason, she downloads the free podcasts from iTunes. I think “Wait Wait” is pretty funny, but “Car Talk” drives me nuts.)

My brother Tony e-mailed last night. “I’m going to be in town tomorrow,” he said, “but only for a little bit. If you’re free at 8, I’ll buy you coffee.” Tony packed his family and moved to Bend nearly two years ago, so I don’t get to see him very often. I miss him. I gave him a lot of shit when he was around, but the truth is I’m proud of him. He’s a good guy.

Naturally, I wanted to have coffee with him. I wrote back:

I can’t make it at 8, but maybe after? My planned schedule is:

5:30 – Out of bed, half an hour of site maintenance

6:00 – To the gym for a quick cardio workout

7:00 – Home to shower

7:30 – Leave for dentist

8:00 – Dentist

??? – Come back home

I’m not having any work done. It’s just a consultation. I’m going to get braces. Shocking, but true.

To which Tony replied, “God bless it! Your analness always makes me laugh.”

Was I being anal? Hm. Maybe I was.

I didn’t get to have coffee with Tony. When he called at 8:45, I was strapped in the dentist’s chair. When I texted him at 9:30, I was still strapped in the dentist’s chair. In fact, I was strapped in the dentist’s chair until 11. It kind of ruined my day.

You see, I’ve decided to get braces. After years of mocking Jeff and Steph for their obsession with orthodontia, I’ve decided it’s in my best interest to have nice teeth. I’m not joking. I put a lot of thought into this, and I weighed the fact that I’ve been so anti-braces in the past. Despite this, it makes sense to get braces, so I’m going to do it.

(“Do you even need braces?” Tiff asked when she came over tonight. “Let me see your teeth.” I showed her my teeth. “Kris says they’re my worst feature,” I said. “Oh,” said Tiff, but she didn’t recoil in terror.)

So I drove down to Canby for an 8 o’clock dentist appointment. Dr. Martin explained the Invisalign process. “Your teeth are borderline,” she said. “I might be able to do them, but I might have to refer you to an orthodontist in Wilsonville. If I have to refer you, that means the process is going to take two years.”

The process this morning seemed to take two years.

After Dr. Martin had examined my teeth, the hygienist took over. She filled a mold with a putty-like material and then rammed it against my upper teeth. After holding it there for two minutes (talking to me the whole damn time — why do hygienists do this?), she pulled it out. Next she filled this putty with a liquid, set a timer for four minutes, and rammed the mold back into my mouth. While we both tried to remain very still, the liquid set into a gummy solid around my teeth. When the timer beeped, we both had to pry the mold from my mouth.

It wasn’t a pleasant experience. What makes it worse was that it wasn’t a pleasant experience four times. These impressions form the basis for the Invisalign product, so they have to be precise. The first three impressions of my upper teeth were all flawed in some way. The fourth impression was flawed too, but less so. “I think we can send that one in,” Dr. Martin said, the implication being that I might have to come back later for further impressions of that mold wasn’t good enough. Ugh. Fortunately, we were able to get the bottom teeth in one pass.

After 90 minutes of that, I had an hour of photos and x-rays. The photo session was hilarious. They hygienist — a different one this time — had a fancy Nikon digital camera with a nice flash mounted to the lens. The first four shots were easy to get. But the second four required all sorts of monkeying around.

The hygienist recruited the receptionist for help. While I held plastic lip retractors (or whatever they’re called), the receptionist positioned a mirror in my mouth and the hygienist contorted herself into strange positions in order to take the photo at the proper angle. Crazy!

Then, to cap it all off, I got a massive dose of radiation. They took 18 x-rays of my teeth, which is probably more than I’ve had before in my entire life.

Throughout this entire process, the staff kept apologizing. “It’s no problem,” I said, and I meant it. I understand that this is the sort of thing we have to go through to get me my braces. I’m willing to do it. I was just wishing I wasn’t so hungry.

I started a new fitness program this week. Here’s how it works: I roll out of bed, drink two glasses of water, go to the gym to exercise, wait an hour, then eat breakfast. Well, if you remember the schedule I e-mailed Tony, there wasn’t actually any time set aside to eat breakfast there. (If I had been smart — which I wasn’t — I would have grabbed an apple and some cheese for my drive to Canby.) So when I left the dentist at 11, I was starving.

I did, eventually, have enough to eat. And the dentist got all she needed to begin work on my braces. But I didn’t get to see Tony. Maybe next time.